Mated To The Crippled Alpha-Chapter 379: Finally Found You, My Love

Sunlight fell across Vito’s face, but it gave him no warmth at all.

His expression was cold and unreadable. His brows were drawn tight, and his long dark lashes hid whatever was moving behind his eyes. He still wore his white wedding shirt, neat and sharp, with a dark red bow tie at his throat. But dried blood stained the fabric, and dust clung to him like proof of how long he had been running without rest.

I used to think his smile was unsettling. It never reached his eyes, never felt real. But now, standing there without any smile at all, he looked even more tragic. He seemed wrapped in some lonely, icy light, like a man standing under the shadow of the moon, cut off from the rest of the world.

Before Whitney could collapse, Vito dropped to his knees and caught her in his arms.

Whitney could not bear the pain. She bit down on his shoulder and cried soundlessly, tears spilling without control. Vito did not flinch. He did not push her away. He only held her tighter, one hand cupping the back of her head with a gentleness that did not match the darkness around us.

"It’s okay," he whispered. "I’m here."

Whitney was still so pure in his eyes.

He wanted to shield her from everything filthy in this world, from blood, guilt, grief, all of it. He would rather let every sin fall on him than let even one more stain touch her. If someone had to be hated, let it be him. If someone had to go to hell, let it be him. As long as Whitney could still have a way out, as long as she could still live, he would carry it all.

He had never chosen this path.

He had never wanted this cage, this twisted life.

But if staying inside it was the only way to keep Whitney safe, then he would stay in it forever.

Malcom, the man Vito had stabbed, did not die right away.

The blade was still buried in his body, and blood spread quickly across his clothes. Vivian looked like she might faint at any second, but she kept digging her nails into her thigh to stay awake. She was terrified that if she lost consciousness now, she would miss Malcom’s final moments.

Even through her shock, she knew there was nothing she could do.

All she could do was watch him bleed.

Malcom dragged himself across the ground inch by inch, fighting for every breath. He was crawling toward me.

I looked at him and felt my chest tear open.

This was the man who had once loved me. The man who had later hated me. The man who had said things so cruel they still cut through me even now. The man I was supposed to call father.

When I was little, I thought he was the strongest man in the world.

When had his hair turned gray?

When had his body become so weak?

His broken leg dragged uselessly behind him as he crawled over the ground like a dying animal. My body moved before my mind could catch up. I stepped forward and crouched down beside him.

I did not know what to say.

It felt like there were a thousand words inside me, all pushing against my throat, and yet not one of them could come out. At the same time, it felt like an ocean still stood between us.

I had cried for this family.

I had regretted so much.

I had even decided to cut ties with the Morrigans pack for good.

But now, kneeling there beside him, my heart was being pulled apart in every direction. My mind was a mess. I could only stare at him as his lips trembled and his hand slowly reached toward me with the last of his strength.

I bent down and let his rough, blood-covered palm touch my face.

His lips moved.

"Back then..." he whispered. "Did you feel this much pain?"

Did I?

I honestly did not know.

I could barely remember the pain now. The fear had swallowed it whole. All I remembered from that night was panic. I only wanted to run. I only wanted to survive.

On that cold snowy night, I remembered myself stumbling by the water, desperate and half-broken. I remembered thinking about calling for help. I remembered wanting to say goodbye to my family. I remembered wanting to see Luke one last time.

But I never stopped to think about how much it hurt.

I did not answer him.

I just looked at him.

After a long struggle, Malcom managed a weak smile.

"At least..." he said, "you’re still alive."

His finger, sticky with blood, brushed my cheek.

"I wasn’t a good father. Don’t cry for me. I’m not worth it..."

Cry?

Was I crying?

Were those wet streaks on his face really my tears?

Then he whispered, so softly I almost missed it,

"I’m sorry, my little princess."

His hand slipped away.

His eyes slowly closed.

Something tore out of me then, raw and broken.

"Dad!"

Nearby, Grandma was kneeling in front of Ronald’s grave. Her voice was low and shaking.

"Ronald, it’s the Morrigans’ fault. I ruined your mate. I ruined you. I ruined your whole bloodline. Even if I have to fall into the lowest part of hell to repay it, I accept that. But my descendants are innocent. If you can hear me... please spare them."

Something about the moment felt wrong.

A chill went through me and I turned sharply.

"Grandma!"

She looked at me, her face strangely calm.

"Elena, this is all my fault. I was too greedy. Too stubborn. If I had not let one moment of darkness destroy the Blackwells, maybe all of us could have lived in peace. I ruined you. I ruined the Morrigans line. The one who should have died was always me."

My whole body went cold.

"Don’t be sad," she continued softly. "I do not have much time left. Greg, I leave the Morrigans to you. Camilla, Elena, forget everything that happened today. Hatred only breeds more hatred. Don’t let it blind you. Live your lives. Be with the ones you love. Live well..."

I knew she carried the blame for all of this.

I knew she had done terrible things.

But I still could not bear the thought of losing her.

I stumbled to my feet and rushed toward her.

"No! Grandma, don’t!"

I fell hard before I could reach her. Sharp stones tore into my hands and knees, but I did not care. I kept crawling toward her, blinded by tears and fear.

Grandma turned to Dominic and smiled.

It was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

"Dominic," she said, "I’ve paid the price for everything I owed the Blackwells."

Then, with the last of her strength, she threw herself forward and slammed into Ronald’s gravestone.

My scream ripped through the air.

"No!"

At that exact moment, while everyone’s eyes were still on Grandma, Wisteria appeared behind me.

She moved like a shadow.

Her hand rose, knife aimed straight for my back, just like that night during the ambush.

Then—

Splurt.

The blade sank into flesh.

Blood splashed in front of my eyes.

But I felt no pain.

My breath caught.

I looked up in shock and met the eyes of the man holding me tightly against him. His face was still cold, but it softened just enough for a small, gentle smile.

"Finally found you," he murmured. "My love."